In The Beginning
by Jerimi Lydia Andrews
Summary: This is just the beginning to something I have going on in the back of my head. A crossover between Supernatural and Good Omens, but none of the characters have appeared in this selection of what I have written.


I can remember exactly where I was when the Apocalypse started. Because I was fighting to stop it. I was smack dab in the middle of the battlefield, fighting for the lives and souls of billions of people, not including my own. The fate of everything ever rested solely in my hands, and I let everything down.

Destiny sucks. I just wanted to throw that out there. You grow up, having dreams of becoming a princess or a doctor or an actor, or in my case, a superhero (which in hindsight, kind of came true), and then all of a sudden the Metatron comes out of nowhere and crashes your seventh birthday party, then tells you that you're destined to stop the Apocalypse. That is precisely what happened to me.

My Spiderman-themed birthday party was going fine. All of my bitchy little friends were there, and I was vaguely happy. We had just settled down for pizza and cake, when it started to storm. It was November though, so it was understandable. We all moved inside my middle class home, trying to get all the things that could possibly be damaged by the rain inside before everything was screwed.

Twenty minutes later, we were settling down again when the power went out.

Children screamed, parents moaned, and my mum and dad proceeded to find all the candles that weren't on my birthday cake and light them. This was probably a mistake, but they did it anyway. After about half an hour of eating pizza, screaming, and fruit punch spills, it was time for my cake. I was bouncing up and down in my seat as my mum brought out my cake. Seven little candles burned brightly atop a generously iced devil's food cake (ironic, isn't it?), and my so-called friends began singing an off key and off tempo rendition of 'Happy Birthday'. When they came to the end of the overused, cliche, and simply annoying song, my cake, my entire cake, burst into flames.

It was quiet for a few seconds, and then all hell (LOL) broke loose. The kids ran screaming, parents started screaming, my mum and dad screamed, even Gizmo, my cat, started howling. I just kind of sat there and stared at the dessert that had spontaneously combusted in front of me.

I later learned that everyone except me was screaming because everyone else was incapable of hearing the Metatron's true voice. To them, it was like a reactor meltdown in their brains. Nuclear waste everywhere. (Seven out of the thirty four people in that room died of cancer. Angels are douches that way.) While the brains of those around me slowly whithered away, I was listening to a very seroious angel tell me that I was destined to stop the Apocalypse. Everyone says that the Metatron is genderless, but it's a guy, trust me. I was the one that had to have him constantly by my side from the age of seven to the age of nineteen. It sucked.

Anyway, the Metatron's exact words were as follows;

"Hayley Lydia Blake, daughter of Adam Blake and Eva Emerson, descendant of Mary Magdelene. The Lord has called upon you to prevent the Antichrist from bringing about the Apocalypse in the year 2012. I will train you."

At this point and time, my seven year old self got really pissed off. Which led to an unpredictable chain of events that no one really saw coming. I stood up, screamed at my cake (I didn't really say anything, just screamed at it in general), and then threw it. Gizmo was unfortunately in its line of fire. I didn't mean to throw the flaming cake at him, he was just kind of in the way of its trajectory. The very confused Metatron's spirit, which was posessing my cake, hence the fire, was then jolted out of the cake and well, into my cat. And it got stuck there.

Since the Metatron was in shock because of the fact that he was now a cat, the attendees of my birthday party regained their sanity, and then proceeded to lose it again because my house was slowly catching on fire. Evacuation of my immaculately clean home took place immediately. One of the parents must have called 911 while everyone was rushing outside, because fire engines soon arrived at the scene of the event no one really understood. As a crowd gathered in front of the growing blaze, my parents took me aside. I was too hysterical to say anything because I couldn't find Gizmo, but once he was found I slowly began to calm down. I was sitting in an ambulance clinging to him when my mum attempted to approach me again.

"Honey, is everything okay?" she asked me, trying to hide her fear. It wasn't quite working. I just kind of blankly stared at her. I think I scared her off then, because she started to sob. My dad came over, and put a firm hand on her shoulder and led her away.

The next few days were all a blur. I think we may have gone to my aunt's house. I think the angels decided to block that part out of my almost uncanny memory, because that's when they had to go through all the drama of informing my feeble mind of what my feeble body was really in store for. I still know what they told me, I just can't remmeber the shock and horror of the realization and comprehension of what they told me.

My memory began again on the day I woke up to Gizmo staring me straight in the eyes and saying, yes, saying, "You are ready."

And so began the rest of my life.

Gizmo and I had gotten into a staring contest again. And this time, the anger was real. We weren't arguing because I had forgotten his tuna or he had coughed up a hairball indoors. I had failed him. Well, not just him, but God. I failed God. And humanity.

"Hayley, you failed." Fireworks went off in the back of my skull. He was using his Metatron voice. I hadn't heard that since, well, the first time I heard it. He really was pissed.

"I know," I whispered, unable to think of anything else to say. I was legitimately stuck between a rock and a hard place. I couldn't say that I was sorry, because I could not have done anything to stop it, and I couldn't say that I wasn't sorry because I had given everything I had to try to stop the Apocalypse, but to no avail. I really had failed.

Gizmo and I stared at each other for a few more seconds, and then he just up and left. Jumped off the desk across from me and padded right out the hotel door without looking back. I lost track of how long I stared at that door, but eventually I gave up and flopped back onto the rather uncomfortable hotel bed and stared at the ceiling. I could tell that the skies were getting darker outside, but that was to be expected. I mean, the world was at least six hours into the apocalypse by now. Eventually, I drifted into a restless and fitful sleep.

Not-so-pleasant dreams of empty streets plagues my unconcious mind. I walked on for what seemed like hours, exploring West End like I had never been able to before. Everyone was gone, like they had just vanished off the face of the Earth. It was like something out of the Twilight Zone or some other scifi movie. Except this was the real deal. Everyone really was gone, everyone really was dead.

The angels liked to give me psychic dreams sometimes, to keep me from doing bad stuff that would lead to the premature destruction of existence. I got used to it after awhile. But they were never this bad. A massacre there, a natural disaster there (how my actions would have lead to that I still don't know), but never the complete destruction of humanity. No, they had never done that to me. Which made me doubt if this really was a dream from them or not. Maybe it was just my imagination and guilt getting to me. Or maybe it wasn't. As I passed by what used to be my favorite coffee shop, the familiar whoosh of the appearance of an angel reached my ears. I sighed heavily and turned, bringing myself face to face with the most attractive angel I had ever seen.

His dark hair was cut rather short, but was splayed out in all different directions in a style that could best be described as 'elegantly disheveled'. His strong facial features were accented by a very suitable five o'clock shadow of scruffy facial hair, and sable green eyes made the look even more intense. He was closer than I thought. _Personal space,_ I thought._ I'm pretty sure they've forgotten the concept._

As if he had read my mind, the angel backed up, giving me some room. _God damnit._ A soft gaze turned into a striking stare in almost an instant.

"Right," I muttered. "Well then, get it over with. Punish me for the deed I failed to do."

"I am not here to punish you. I am here to warn you," he said in an oddly deep and husky voice. "This is what the world will become. You can still reverse what has happened, or at least prevent it from getting any worse."

"Ha, really," I scoffed. "And how.." I tried to think of the right exclamation to use, but the irony in all of them was too much for me to bear. "And how do you expect me to do that?"

"I can't tell you here, we may be being watched." _Heard that before._ "You think me hearing your thoughts is bad? Those watching us can hijack into your subconcious, into your dreams and thoughts you don't even know you're having. Meet me here, as soon as you wake up." The angel reached into his pocket and pulled out a small slip of paper and roughly shoved it into my hands, then touched two fingers to my forehead.

_Not this again._

I had one of those wake up moments. The ones where you sit up straight all of a sudden and you're screaming. That usually happened when the angels controlled my dreams. But invading them? That was another first. I went to scratch the back of my head, but the slip of paper the new angel had given me slipped out of it and drifted gently to the floor. So that was real. Lovely.

I slowly managed to get out of the bed and saunter over to the bathroom. As I turned on the faucet to wake myself up, I saw myself for the first time since I had gotten back from my failed attemot at saving the worl; I could barely recognize myself. I was a mess, in the literal and figurative sense. Apparently during my fight with the Antichrist, part of my hair was singed, making my head look lopsided. I had also managed to acquire a black eye, a large gash across my forehead, several broken ribs, and a moderately chipped tooth. I stared at myself in the mirror, realizing what exactly I had gone through. And then the pain set in.

Fuck immediacy, that angel can wait. I needed to fix myself.

The next hour and a half was spent assessing all the damage really done to my body, stitching myself back together, cutting my own hair, and generally cleaning myself up. By the time I was done and thanks to accelerated healing, I had a rather ugly scar above my right eye, my auburn hair was shorter by about eight inches (it now only fell to my shoulders), and my ribs had started to heal. I looked in the mirror one last time before leaving and thought,_ Not bad for a post-Apocalypse look. Now let's go get my ass get kicked again._

I was in no hurry when I packed my bags and left the motel room. I didn't really want to come back or get where I ad to go, so I took my jolly old time checking out. The receptionist at the front desk of the motel gave me the weirdest look the entire time though. As I walked outsisde and marveled at how dark the sky had become, my phone began to ring. I sighed and quickly unlocked my car to throw my bag in the backseat. I almost dropped my phone pulling it out of my pocket, but managed to catch it before it fell and shattered into a million hateful pieces. "Unknown Caller" the preview panel flashed. Lovely.

"Hello?" I tried to sound as exhasperated as possible.

"You're late." The angel. "Where are you?"

I sighed again. "Chill, man. I'm getting in my car now. You don't have to be so..." _Click._ I couldn't believe it. Not only did an angel just call me, but he also just hung up on me. I was really starting to dislike this guy. Whatever. After getting in my car, I finally took the time to look at where I was going. In the middle of the wrinkled paper were three small neatly printed words;

Amulet and Grimoire.

I had heard of the place before, but had never been there. "A quaint little tavern with good food, great drinks, and the mood and atmosphere of a fucking dungeon," a friend of mine had once said. Wonderful. I crumpled up the paper and tossed it in the back seat as I put my keys in the ignition and turned them. The engine revved, then puttered out and died. After yet another sigh, I did one of those forehead-to-the-steeringwheel things, and felt tears begin to well up in my eyes. The thump of raindrops plagued my ears as I broke down into a full-on sob.

"Why are you crying?"

I jumped. That fucking angel was in my passenger seat. I was so caught up with crying my eyes out that I didn't even hear him show up.

"Go away," I mumbled through stifled sobs.

"I can't," he replied. "I have to protet you." My sobbing quickly stopped. "I was going to wait for you at the tavern, but got worried when you didn't show."

"Uhm...what?"

"Yes yes yes," he scoffed. His tone had changed dramatically. "I'm the arc angel assigned to protect you. Fun job."

His sarcasm was almost too much to bear.

"Well then."

Those were the only two words I could manage to say. Enough had happened to me today, now I have another angel protecting my ass. Cool.


End file.
